


Silver Ecstasy

by lonniek



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Cock Warming, Comeplay, Deepthroating, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:39:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonniek/pseuds/lonniek
Summary: “Can I just,” Ashton starts. He’s never asked for this before. It always seemed weird, to want something in his mouth with no intention of getting anyone off. It seems almost counterintuitive to what he’s been taught. But the thought of it, of having something in his mouth of Michael’s that he doesn’t have to work to maintain, makes Ashton's head spin. Michael, though, will always give Ashton what he needs.





	Silver Ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title pulled from a [Never Shout Never](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oev8xUwoYfo) song of the same name.

Ashton’s forehead knocks the head of the bed frame for what feels like the fifth time in six minutes, but he barely feels it. The way that Michael slowly teases the butt plug out of him before forcing it all the way back in means it’s the only thing he can feel. Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he’s thankful that the headboard is made of soft leather. He does _not_ think that whatever people on the other side of the hotel wall are as thankful for the constant thud.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful like that,” Michael tells him, pulling the plug out once more. The base of it is thick, just about as wide and heavy as Michael’s cock, so every time Michael drives it back into him, sporadic and erratic and never in a rhythm he can expect, Ashton can’t help but cry out, push backward and then thump forward again. He hits his head a sixth time.

“Yeah?” Ashton gasps. He loves when Michael calls him beautiful. It makes him feel vulnerable and wide open, like he’s not just a mess of Michael’s first round of drying come on his back and lube trickling down his inner thigh.

“Yeah,” he confirms. He twists the plug again and Ashton’s breath hitches. “You’re a fucking piece of art. Love your curls.” He takes the long, thrown back tufts of hair in his hand and tugs Ashton’s head back. “Love the way you hate it when you’re empty.” Ashton moans and starts to whimper, opening and closing his mouth to get words he doesn’t know out. Michael’s breath is hot hiss in his ear. “Tell me.” He always knows—when he needs to say something, do something—Michael is so tuned into Ashton like this he can predict the next tremor in his thigh or the curl of his fingers into the blanket.

“Please turn it on. Turn the vibrator on Michael, _please._ ” Ashton only ever uses Michael’s full name when they’re fucking if he’s desperate. It’s usually accompanied by a soft, impatient thump of his foot. Michael chuckles and presses the pad of his thumb into the button on the bottom of the plug, and it shivers to life against Ashton’s already sensitive prostate.

“God, Ash, babe, I love it when you beg like that. Your voice is perfect.” Ashton responds by swallowing, bobbing his Adam’s apple against the taut pull of his neck, and groaning. The backs of his thighs quiver and Ashton struggles to hold himself up on his hands and knees. His arms buckle and he drops to his elbows before Michael has a chance to let go of his hair. It hurts, the yanking before Michael’s fingers are free from his sweat-damp curls. Ashton chokes on a sound that’s almost a sob, but it’s punctuated with a loud, rumbling _fuck,_  and Michael knows he’s okay.

“Yeah? You like it like that? How about when I start moving, huh? You gonna keep making those pretty sounds for me?” Ashton nods into a pillow and groans again in response, so Michael makes good on his word and slowly, painstakingly pushes the plug back in, waiting for Ashton to bear down against it before giving him the rest. “You’ll have to be louder, though. It’s hard to hear you when your mouth is covered.” Ashton turns his head to the side and gasps for fresh air.

“It’s good, it’s good Mikey, it’s so good, _fuck_. Fuck me, please. Please fuck me, oh Christ, Michael—”

“I promised I’d fuck you, didn’t I? Because you’re my perfect, beautiful boy and I’ll give you anything.” Michael kisses the dimple between Ashton’s lower back and the top curve of his ass.

“Yeah, yes, fuck, you promised, Mikey. God, but _now.”_ Michael chuckles and presses the plug in until the flare of the base rests firmly against Ashton’s ass. The next cry from his mouth is slow and desperate; he knows Michael will do what he wants when he’s good and ready to, and not a moment before.

“You said you wanted this, right? Wanted something else to fill you up so I could make you come once, and then again so you can come with my dick inside of you?” Michael swats Ashton’s ass. It’s so tight that it barely moves except to twitch under the light sting. “Isn’t that what you still want, babe?”

As he talks, Michael smooths his hands across what parts of Ashton he can reach: down the backs of his thighs, across the front where soft hair tickles the sensitive tips of his fingers. They trickle down and up and across, snaking paths across everywhere and nowhere until his hand finally comes to rest at the base of Ashton’s cock. Ashton, buzzing from the vibrations and the whisper-soft touches of Michael’s hand, snaps back into reality with the circling of Michael’s fingers around him.

“Well?” Michael asks, knowing Ashton only halfway heard him. Ashton mumbles something Michael can’t make out and then groans, not knowing if he should push back into the white-hot pressure in his ass or the warm hand lazily stroking his cock and fondling his balls, all without the sense of urgency that fills Ashton to his core.

“Huh?”

“Well, isn’t that what you still want? To be so sensitive that by the time I get my dick inside of you I can make you scream?”

“ _Fuck,_ Mikey, yes. God, I wanna come. Just. Please. Give me, _anything—”_

“Shh,” Michael says, picking up the pace of his hand. Ashton whines and trembled under him, begging and pleading into the pillow. “Shh, babe, I’ve got you. I’m always gonna take care of you. Especially like this, when you’re so beautiful and so good for me.” Ashton nods and cries out again, squeezes his eyes shut and tries his best to remember to breathe. He manages panting, and Michael feels the frantic energy surrounding them. His mind starts to fill with the electric buzz of the vibrating butt plug and he moves his hand faster, hips twitching to the rhythm of Ashton pushing back and forth toward and away from him.

“Mikey, hnn—I’m,”

“I know, babe,” Michael says. His voice is soft now, quiet, like he’s trying to calm a spooked horse. Every muscle in Ashton’s body is taut, veins pulsing in his arms. “I know. Come on, let go for me. You’re so pretty, _so_ pretty when you come for me. Give it to me.” Ashton can’t not when Michael talks to him like that. The soft words are tender caresses that help to dull the tsunami-crashing waves of blood in his ears as he comes. Michael clicks off the vibration on the butt plug while Ashton shudders through his orgasm, knowing that if he keeps it on, Ashton will be ready to tap out before Michael’s ready to call it a night.

“Mike,” Ashton murmurs, struggling not to drop down into the small puddle of his own come underneath him. Michael wraps his arm around Ashton’s waist and holds him tight until his arms are strong enough to keep him from collapsing into the sheets.

“You did so good, babe,” Michael coos. He pulls at the flared base of the plug, softly, slowly. Ashton whimpers and follows it back, trying to deny himself the emptiness. Michael chuckles and grips his hip. “Hey, hey, none of that. You’ll be full again in a minute, okay? I promise.” Ashton nods but whines all the same when the plug is finally free. He relaxes into Michael’s arms, letting him take most of the dead weight of his body. “Okay,” Michael says once the plug is down on the bedside table. He’s done a good job of putting his own arousal on the backburner until now. It’s not easy, not with the way Ashton arches his back and wriggles when he’s close. And now, with him spent and only halfway present with hooded eyes and sweat trickling down the side of his face, it’s nearly impossible.

Michael shimmies out of his boxers with one hand, the other hand always touching Ashton’s hot, sticky skin. “Do you still want me?”

Ashton, who can barely keep his eyes open, nods so quickly he makes himself dizzy. “Oh, god, yes. I want your dick inside me: I’m so empty when you’re not inside of me. I love to be stretched out around you, Mikey.” Michael leans down and helps Ashton roll over onto his back before pushing in further to kiss him.

“Okay, Ash. Okay, just hold on. I gotta grab the lube: we knocked it on the floor. And a condom.” Ashton shakes his head. “Babe, you need lube,” he starts, but Ashton presses his finger to Michael’s lips.

“No condom. Fill me up, Michael, please. Makes me feel full even when you’re not there.” Michael’s dick throbs again and he wraps his thumb and forefinger around the base and squeezes.

“Yeah, babe, whatever you need.” Michael strokes Ashton’s cheek and follows the trail his thumb makes with his lips, kissing down and across his cheekbones before pulling up just a little. “I’ll be right back, okay? I swear.” Mollified, Ashton nods. Michael hops down off the bed and drops to his hands and knees. The lube is halfway under the bed, cap still open. He grabs it and produces it triumphantly, making Ashton giggle. It’s a sound that Michael would die for, that giggle: it’s full-bodied and Ashton’s entire body shivers when he does it; like the laughter that comes from him is still and will always be a part of him.

“Good, you’re back,” Ashton says, when he’s done laughing and has his breath back. “Means you can get your dick in me now, yeah?” Michael rolls his eyes but nods, crawling back onto the bed to hover over Ashton once more. He loves to look down at him like this—curls splayed across the pillow, sweat down his chest, and wild eyes.

“I love you so much,” Michael whispers against Ashton’s mouth. “Every single time I look at you I find something new to love. Like the crinkles in the corner of your eyes when I kiss your nose.” He proves his point by kissing right on the tip of his nose, and Ashton giggles just a little more. “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay? Come inside of you so that you’re full of me, even when we’re done. How’s that sound?” Ashton just nods. “I’m gonna prep you again,” Michael says, “just a little bit.” Ashton rolls his eyes.

“Mikey, come _on._ I had a butt plug in that’s almost thicker than your cock. Just. Just fuck me, Michael, _please._ Come on, I need it. Don’t need anything else, okay? I promise. I promise, just—” Ashton lifts his legs and hooks his heels behind the backs of Michael’s thighs. “Now,” he demands, and Michael has no choice but to oblige. He wriggles his way free from Ashton’s leg lock and squeezes lube into the palm of his hand. Half of him is tempted to be mean, to pour cold lube all over Ashton’s asshole, but Ash is physically vibrating underneath him, so he settles for stroking his palm over his cock just enough to coat it. He wants to keep tugging, fuck into his hand until he comes all over Ashton’s stomach.

Later. There will always be time for that later.

“Okay, open up,” Michael whispers. Ashton spreads his legs a little wider and strokes Michael’s back to pull him closer. “You’re so good for me,” he coos, pushing up the backs of Ashton’s thighs. Then the tip of his dick is there, pushing up against Ashton’s hole. They stay like that, waiting and staring at each other and then waiting a moment more. “I’m so in love with you,” Michael whispers before pushing in, sinking slowly into Ashton’s heat. Ashton groans: Michael is thick. He never forgets that, especially when they prep him with his favorite glass dildo or one of their wider butt plugs. But it’s so different, having Michael hot and pulsing and pushing and _present_ inside of him.

“Mikey,” Ashton whines. He hooks his legs around Michael’s back and locks his heels together, forcing Michael to bottom out. “Fuck!” Ashton loves it when Michael is balls deep, an all-consuming pressure between his legs. Michael shifts his knees and leans further forward and Ashton groans, tossing his head to the side.

“No, no, no,” Michael says, lifting a hand to stroke Ashton’s cheek and bring his face back up until they’re making eye contact once again. “I want to see you and your beautiful face. Like the look you make when I actually start to move.” Michael drops his hips back and pushes in once, slower than he thought he had the self-control to. Ashton chews on his lower lip and nods, words escaping him. I’m between their bellies, Ashton’s cock twitches, trying valiantly to be hard again. Michael fucks into him again and Ashton cries out. “Come on, babe. That’s it, sing to me.”

They fuck like that, slow and dragging, with Ashton making tiny sounds mingled with Michael’s constant peppering of praise, for a while. Until Ashton’s cock is hard again and Michael’s whole body trembles with his forced restraint. It’s Ashton who breaks their wordless friction.

“Michael,” he groans, tightening his calves around his lower back. “I need you to just—” Michael beats him to the punch. He waits for this moment, until Ashton can take no more of the slow, tender motion and demands to be _fucked._ He pulls out and Ashton makes a displeased noise that sounds like “no,” but it’s so garbled around a whine that Michael isn’t sure. But Ash is only disappointed for a fraction of a second, until Michael pushes into him again and then doesn’t stop. He pulls out, plunges back in, repeats the motion. When he bottoms out next, Michael kisses Ashton as close to his mouth as he can manage with both of them panting against each other. Michael knows like this, neither he nor Ashton will last much longer. Ash is so sensitive after he comes the first time—it’s been a while since Michael has convinced him to be okay with getting off just the once.

Michael pushes Ashton’s thighs up and all at once Ashton sits up as far as he can. “Fuck, Mikey, fuck! Please, just like that, ohmygodohmygodogmygod don’t  _stop!”_ Michael nods, his forehead knocking against Ashton’s clavicle. He thrusts harder, words escaping him. It’s rare Ashton can get him like this: wordless, breathless, a straining mass of muscle and nerves waiting to come apart.

“I won’t, baby, won’t stop, not until you’re nice and full, okay? Not until you’re all mine. Always mine.” It takes a solid thirty seconds to get the words out and Ashton just nods along, one hand on his cock while he jerks off out of time to Michael’s thrusts. The slick slide sound of Ashton’s hand and the look of glazed over pleasure and joy in his face is too much for Michael to stand anymore. He keeps his promise a moment later. “Fuck, Ash, fuck, god—” and then he’s coming. He folds Ashton over further and buries himself in him as deep as he can.

Ashton revels in the sensation of being filled, how each pulse of Michael’s come is another reminder that while he’s his own person, right now he belongs to Michael. Michael stays deep inside of him, rocking his hips just enough for Ashton to jerk himself to his own orgasm. It’s rough and hurried like they’re in high school again, Ashton chasing the burn of desire in his gut until he spills over his hand, his stomach, Michael’s chest. He comes with a long moan before crushing his and Michael’s mouth together. They stay just like that a while, kissing and sucking on each other’s lips until Ash wriggles, the pressure of Michael’s body weight pressing too hard on his hips.

Michael kisses him one more time and pulls out slowly. Ashton, like he always does, makes a tiny noise of displeasure. Michael rolls his eyes but knows a way to keep him satisfied. He flings his arm out to the side, only taking his eyes off Ashton long enough to make sure he doesn’t knock their butt plug off the bedside table. Ashton sees it and smiles.

“You keeping me full?” Ashton asks, dimpled cheeks only adding to the soft sunshine glow on his face.

“Of course I am. That’s what you want. You were perfect, _are_ perfect.” Michael wipes sweaty hair out of Ashton’s face and kisses his forehead, pushing the plug back into him in the same breath. Ashton sighs and his body melts into the sheets. Michael smiles, kisses Ashton’s forehead again, and pushes himself up. His body protests, wanting to be dead weight that settles right next to Ashton so they can cuddle until one of them falls asleep and drags the other one down. But Ashton’s quick to grab Michael by the arm.

“No,” is the only word he says.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Michael frowns and shakes his arm free. “We’re covered in come.” Ashton shrugs. “That’s disgusting.” He shrugs again.

“Don’t go,” he pleads quietly, staring at him with wide, dewy eyes. Ashton looks like he might cry if Michael protests and gets up to get a warm towel anyway, so he drops to his side on his elbow and pulls Ashton onto his side, curls him into his chest and kisses the top of his head.

“Your head is sweaty,” he complains.

“Your fault.” Ashton shrugs. “Don’t complain. Use your mouth better.” Michael chuckles. He loves when Ashton is come drunk and loopy: it’s funny, but Ashton always gets soft like this. He always puts up a front of being strong and big and put together, but like this, Ashton lets himself be wrapped up in Michael’s arms and pet.

“How can I ‘use my mouth better,’ huh? And don’t tell me it’s to zip it. You’re a cheeky bastard for that one.” Ashton giggles at the memory: they fucked until Ashton tapped out halfway to his fourth orgasm. Michael made fun of him for the way he practically scrambled away from him, and Ashton told him he could put his mouth to better use if he shut it and never opened it again.

“No,” he says, a common word when he’s still trying to think straight. “Kisses. Kiss me, Mikey.” It’s a request that Michael is more than happy to oblige. Kissing Ashton is one of his favorite pastimes; Ashton likes long, lingering kisses with just enough tongue every now and again that he can taste Michael. They kiss until his lips are bruised and plump and pink like they are when he’s been biting at them. There’s no urgency, no need for more. Just soft, tender kisses that blend into one another, until each one forgets where they end and the other person begins.

Ashton shifts in Michael’s arms and his inner thigh rubs against Michael’s soft cock. It’s warm, warm like Michael’s lips, and all of a sudden it’s enticing. Ashton pokes Michael in the stomach with his pointer finger, already imagining the stretch of his mouth around it, the weight of Michael on his tongue.

“Hmm?” Michael’s voice is lazy, like he was in the middle of falling asleep. “What is it?”

“Can I just,” Ashton starts. He’s never asked for this before. It always seemed weird, to want something in his mouth with no intention of getting anyone off. It seems almost counterintuitive to what he’s been taught. But the thought of it, of having something in his mouth of Michael’s that he doesn’t have to work to maintain. Kissing is work, takes energy that he doesn’t have. But to be able to just—

“Can I just…?” Michael prompts, reminding Ashton that he was in the middle of saying something, not just fantasizing about it.

“Can I suck it?” Ashton nudges Michael’s cock with his knee, just enough so he knows what Ashton is talking about.

“Babe, I love you, but I feel like I’ve just been four rounds in a prize fight. Not that I don’t love when you blow me, because you’ve got an _amazing_ mouth—” Michael’s interrupted by Ashton’s finger against his lips. Michael kisses it.

“Not like,  _suck_ it. Just like. I just wanna put it in my mouth for a while.” Michael doesn’t say no immediately or shake his head or nod yes. He goes still, aside from the soft lips against Ashton’s fingertip.

“What?”

“Like. You’re. Warm. And soft. And I just need something in my mouth, okay?” Michael squints, like he always does when he’s trying to process new information. “Please say yes,” Ashton whispers. It’s the same voice he uses when he’s afraid, and Michael shushes him and peppers kisses all along his forehead and hairline.

“Yes, babe, of course. Whatever you want. It’s just...new. Gentle, okay?” Ashton nods and inches himself down, just enough so that he’s eye level with Michael’s dick. He’s seen it soft before, all the time. Changing on the tour bus, after Calum steals Michael’s towel, Michael streaking through a hotel room. But it’s different like this, intimate and special. Ashton kisses it where the head of his cock meets his foreskin. Michael snorts a soft giggle through his nose. He’s used to pulling the foreskin back, sucking Michael down in one or two big gulps. It’s always easy, because his dick is so hard that he only has to pull a touch. This’ll be the first time he’s swallowed him soft like this, though, not bothered by the foreskin keeping him from suckling on the head of Michael’s cock. It’s not the point.

Ashton opens his mouth and turns up his palm, uses it to guide Michael’s dick into his mouth. Even soft, Ashton has to open his mouth wide, and he smiles to himself thinking about the imminent slow burn in his jaw that’ll come from the stretch. Michael sighs above him, resting his hand on top of Ashton’s head. There’s not the rush of sexual energy Michael expected. Instead, it’s just...warm. Comfortable. He runs his fingers through Ashton’s hair.

“Thank you,” he says. “This is nice, babe. Your mouth—I’ve always loved your mouth. I didn’t know it could be like this.” Ashton says nothing, can say nothing, but hums in response, the sound reverberating in his mouth. “Is this what you needed?” He asks. Ashton tilts his chin up and down in a nod just enough that Michael knows that yes, this is exactly what he needed. Michael strokes his fingers down Ashton’s cheek. It bulges at the sides, and briefly Michael thinks that if this were any other situation, it would be so sexy to have Ashton’s mouth stuffed full of his cock. Now, though, _right now_ , Michael could fall asleep bathed in the soft warmth of Ashton’s tongue.

Ashton swallows, keeping spit from trailing too far down the side of his mouth. It’s not that he minds, but he doesn’t particularly want to choke while he’s comfortable like this. Michael doesn’t really move above him except to relax further. He mutters soft encouragements, saying that Ashton can have whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. Ashton knows that he means it. He closes his eyes, suckles softly every now and then, but mostly just holding Michael’s cock, stretching his jaw every few minutes to adjust. It’s easier than sucking Michael off: when his dick is soft, it’s easier to fit into his mouth, and he doesn’t have to worry about getting every inch of it in his mouth and down his throat. For it to just rest there, for it to be something that Ashton can focus on, suck on while he sinks deeper into the soft place of his mind, is peace of mind enough.

Michael never would have guessed that something like this would bring Ashton so much comfort. It makes sense now, with him down there, sometimes licking just a little, sometimes sucking, sometimes slurping. He can’t quite equate it to a child sucking their thumb for comfort, but it’s the closest analogy that he can think of. It’s just Michael filling another part of Ashton and keeping him full and satiated. He thinks about his come in Ashton’s ass, about how much Ashton loves to have all that he can contain and then some if he can. Michael likes it too, now that it’s happening. He’s still sensitive from his orgasm, which feels like it was hours ago even though no longer than fifteen minutes could have gone by. But the sensitivity is nice with Ashton’s mouth as a warm bath, something that Michael can sink into and swim in.

And then Ashton sucks just a little too hard a few times, making Michael’s breath hitch. His hips twitch and Michael’s hands come to rest on top of and behind Ashton’s head. All of the softness from his mouth before turns into a sharp sensation at the edge of each nerve ending. He doesn’t push down, not yet, but Michael does groan. He can feel Ash smile and swallow again, the suckling pressure increasing.

“God, babe,” Michael says. He can feel himself getting hard, filling out the rest of Ashton’s mouth. Ash sticks his tongue out to accommodate it but doesn’t make a move to really finish what he’s started. His tongue moves in slow, lazy figure eights and he still sucks and swallows. But more spit slicks his mouth, slides down his chin, and Michael groans. He does push then, just a little bit, on the back of Ashton’s head. Ashton doesn’t quite expect it and it makes him cough. He doesn’t pull all the way off Michael, just lifts his head enough to take a couple deep breaths through his nose.

“Ashton,” Michael warns, “You have to stop. You’ve gotta—you either gotta stop or you’ve gotta get me off. I love you, I wanted to give you this. I did, I do, fuck—” Ashton interrupts him by pushing Michael’s cock to the back of his throat and humming. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, just like that. ‘M not gonna last.” Michael’s quivering thighs and twitching fingers are proof enough of that. Ashton’s smile gets wider, as much as it can with his mouth full, and he grabs Michael’s ass and pulls him close. He sucks hard and Michael continues a string of fluid curses. He’s been overstimulated before, but this is different. All he can do to hold on is grab tight to Ashton’s hair and push him down further, until his nose is pressed up against his pubic bone. Ashton does choke, then, but he doesn’t pull up. Michael knows that Ashton will tap when it gets to be too much, but Michael prays that it won’t be, not before he has a chance to come down Ash’s throat.

“Oh. Babe. Babe, fuck!” Michael knows he should be mindful of the amount of noise he’s making. It’s reverberating off the poorly decorated hotel walls, and he knows that there’s someone in the room to their left. But he can’t, not with Ashton’s mouth wide open and sloppy while Michael fucks into it, one hard thrust after another. “Shit, Ash, I love your mouth. I love it, love your mouth, love your _fuckin—”._ His praise is cut off as Ashton closes his mouth around Michael and sucks, leaving only friction and suction, and Michael is left with no choice but to come. His warning is choked and half-assed, just the word “Ash,” in a broken voice, and then he’s coming. Ashton can always take it; it’s one of the countless things that Michael loves about him.

Ashton swallows what he can and double taps Michael’s thigh when he can’t take any more. Michael has the presence of mind to let go of Ashton’s head, but his hips still pump, and he’s still coming, whispering Ashton’s name over and over again, the tone of his voice indicative of all of the praise in the world. When Ashton surfaces, actually makes eye contact with Michael, his mouth is bright pink. There’s come and spit halfway down his chin, smeared across his mouth and cheeks, and a bright, happy grin cracked across his face.

“Come here,” Michael demands, dragging him up and kissing him. He doesn’t care about the flaky come on his chest or the fact that he’s smearing his own come across his mouth. The only thing that matters is getting his mouth on Ashton’s, thanking him—for sharing, for giving, for asking for something that he never would have guessed Ashton needed. He kisses him again and again, until Ashton shoves him gently so he can take deep, gasping breaths. “Sorry?” Michael says when Ashton’s breathing evens out again. Ashton snorts. “Okay, yeah, I know.” Michael goes back to softly threading his hands through Ashton’s hair. “Can I go get us a nice washcloth now?”

“No,” is all Ashton says, and Michael guesses he’s got no choice but to take it for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on [tumblr](http://www.queerlylonnie.tumblr.com) to cry. Cheers, mate.


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